


Lullaby Birdland

by Styleme111



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Sick Jafar, The entire palace is worried!, Worried Sinbad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:59:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styleme111/pseuds/Styleme111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of a fever Ja'far lets on to a hidden insecurity that leaves Sinbad reeling. Now Sinbad is determined to set the record straight and lay Ja'far's worries to rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lullaby Birdland

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the result of many hours of daydreaming at work. My, how gay porn clouds the mind. Which reminds me I have to clean out a space up there soon... 
> 
> Anyway, I really love this pairing and wanted to contribute in some way. I found it fun to write for these two and I hope to do more (maybe) Thanks for reading!

 

 

"Did you just cough?" Sinbad gawked at Ja'far. 

 

The smaller man turned away, veiling his face in his voluminous sleeves. The action was familiar enough, but Sinbad knew the snow haired man was doing it as an evasion rather than habit.

 

"My throat is just dry. It's nothing to worry about," he quickly dismissed and began walking off, his face still hidden. "We still have to talk strategy with Drakon and the navigators for when we set sail to--Sin!" Swift hands adorned with silver and gold clamped over Ja'far's wrists. A firm yank revealed his usually pale face and freckled nose now dusted with pink. 

 

Golden eyes widened with recognition. Flushed cheeks, labored breathing...

 

"Are you sick?" Sinbad asked, a gloss of mirth coating his words. Sinbad could tell his advisor heard the tinkle in his in his voice as the younger man struggled to escape his clutches. 

 

In all his years of living, traveling, and everything in between alongside Ja'far, Sinbad had  _never_  seen the boy sick. Mortally wounded clinging to life, plenty of times. The slightest sniffle or cough, absolutely not. 

 

A smile curved Sinbad's lips as memories from their earlier years surfaced. 

 

For all his innate magoi, dungeons captured and connection with the ruhk, Sinbad was still human. He remembered a particular instance he contracted an illness and had spent an entire day paralyzed by a dangerously high fever leaving Ja'far to look after him while Hinahoho gathered information on the closest dungeon. 

 

During his moments of clarity he had thrown mini tantrums barely appropriate for his age: Why had he been the only one to get sick? Why were Hinahoho and Ja'far loafing about while he was suffering? It hadn't been fair!

 

In the mitts of his whining, he remembered Ja'far's grey eyes regaining the haunted gaze Sinbad worked so hard to dispel. An eerie deranged look that no child should possess.

 

"I'm not allowed to get sick. Being sick shows weakness. A sign that one is deserving of nothing but pity." The small child had recited, sharp eyes never blinking. 

 

That had sobered Sinbad.

 

It hadn't been highly unusual hearing such cynical things from the reformed assassin, but that didn't mean it didn't churn his stomach to hear the boy speak in such a way. Sinbad pushed through stabbing pain and incessant vertigo as he sat up to look the boy square in the eye

 

"We're only human." Sinbad recalled saying with a grin. "It can be our greatest strength and weakness. Does me succumbing to this weakness make me undeserving of keeping you by my side?" He had tossed a wink at the boy. "I'll even keep the pity" Ja'far mouth had gone soft as he shook his head in earnest. 

 

"O-of course not! You never have to work to keep me at your side." Ja'far had said tripping over his words as if embarrassed. He'd then hurriedly dismissed himself with the task of fetching cool water. 

 

The now king wanted to laugh at the karma of the caretaker finally becoming the patient.

 

"Ja'far. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Sinbad asked. "You need rest to recover." 

 

  
Ja'far scoffed and turned his head away from Sinbad's persistence. 

 

"I take a day off and nothing will get done. A whole day's work can't be shrugged off for a cough."

 

Sinbad frowned. Collecting both fair-skinned wrists in one hand, his free hand grasped Ja'far's chin, turning his head to face his gold-flecked scrutiny. The hand ran along the general's cheek until it reached his forehead. Sinbad would be lying if he said he could tell exactly how sick his advisor was simply by touch. But he knew enough that warm clammy skin combined with light wheezing was not a good sign. 

 

"Ja'far. I need you to go to your quarters and get some rest. I'll send for the medical staff to assess your condition." Sinbad instructed. 

 

"That's hardly necessary, Sin." Ja'far just got out between breaths. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make sure all the military surveillance documents have been reviewed and--" he tried to walk away, but Sinbad's grip kept him tethered in front of him. 

 

"It’s not a request," Sinbad said, his honey voice edged with reproach. "It’s now an order from your king. Go on to your quarters for some rest. I'll send attendants to see to you. I will take care of what needs to be done today, so please don't worry too much."

 

Ja'far was glaring now. He opened his mouth probably to further protest, but Sinbad cut him off. 

 

"I will djinn equip Zepar if you refuse to listen to me. You need to rest."

 

Though Ja'far was a grown man and his most trusted general, when alone with Sinbad he easily fell back into bad habits and let his petulance bubble to the surface. His lips almost formed a pout before he seemingly caught himself and let his shoulders slump with forced consent. 

 

"Yes, My King." 

 

Satisfied with his response, Sinbad released Ja'far's wrists. The freckled general offered a shallow bow before he stalked off in the direction of his room. 

 

A sigh was let out as he watched the younger man round the corner. He knew Ja'far was a workaholic to the point where he was practically betrothed to his work desk, but it worried him that he may truly be working himself into the ground.

 

His second-in-command needed a break. Every breathing creature in Sindria would agree. Even though he was being forced to rest due to sickness, rest was rest, and the pale haired man surely deserved it. 

 

Sinbad caught sight of a high-clearance maidservant making rounds in the hall. He pulled the woman over to instruct her to send healers to Ja'far's quarters. The servant bowed in acknowledgement before racing off towards the medical wing. 

 

With Ja’far now off duty, there would be twice the amount of work to do and Sinbad knew he couldn't get the work done nearly as quick as his ivory haired advisor. But, if pulling more hours gave Ja’far a much needed respite, he would do it with no complaints. 

 

Sinbad continued towards the Crimson Cancer tower to meet with Drakon and the sailors for his first of many counsels. Today was definitely going to be a long day. 

* * *

  
There were maps stretched across the long table in the war chamber. Markers were clustered into patterns to brand different sail routes and fleet numbers.  

 

Sinbad and Sindria’s Marine Brigade surrounded the table with vigilant eyes. Tensions were still high between empires leading to extra caution being exercised for embarking through foreign territory.  A navigator a few chairs down began suggesting the initiation of a new sailor whose skill would be an asset before a quiet knock disturbed the room. 

 

"Enter," Sinbad called not bothering to look from the list of candidates piled high on the table. 

 

"Your Majesty," a female voice began. "I know you have given me clear instructions, but I'm afraid I'm having trouble locating General Ja'far."

 

Sinbad's head snapped up at the mention of Ja'far's name. He recognized the visitor as the maidservant he had met in the hall. 

 

"What do you mean you're having trouble locating him," he asked a bit too coldly. The maidservant flinched and answered with a stutter. 

 

"Well...W-we looked for him in his chambers as you said to find the room empty... I-I even took the initiative of combing through the medical chambers, but I can't seem to locate him..." 

 

  
Sindad ran a hand into his bangs as he sighed in frustration. Leave it to a trained assassin to disappear when he doesn't want to be found. 

 

  
He gazed at the maidservant who stood nervously by the door and felt a pang of guilt. Letting the ice melt from his tone he addressed her with overt warmth. 

 

  
"Please forgive my curt words. Thank you for the report. Everything is fine. I'll handle it from here," he presented her with a smile fit to charm a pious man to sin. The world seemed to lift from her shoulders before she bowed and made her exit.

 

Sinbad’s reposed façade shriveled when the door swung shut. Amethyst strands were held in a vice-like grip, ready to be torn from the roots as stress rolled off Sinbad in waves. 

 

"I can continue this meeting and brief you later," a gruff voice placated along with a firm grip to his shoulder. "Go find him before he hurts himself." 

 

Sinbad raised his eyes to Drakon in brief surprise. This was an important meet and decisions needed to be made immediately. But Sinbad could see his own traces of worry mirrored on Drakon's face. He placed his hand over the scaly claw in silent thanks. He ascended from his chair muttering apologies to his subordinates before he disappeared from the room. 

 

His direction was clear as soon as he entered the halls. If he knew Ja'far as well as he thought, he knew there could only be a few places the freckled man would be. 

 

He walked to the Black Libra Tower planning to fling open every door to a briefing room until he found his wayward advisor. 

 

It only took two doors before the third door revealed the general situated at a desk, hunched over a scroll, quill gliding over the parchment with practiced ease. The sight was almost too normal. That was until Ja'far let out a wheezing cough into the sleeve of his robe. From the doorway, Sinbad could see his chest rise and fall rapidly, as if his lungs were having trouble collecting air. 

 

"I thought I told you to go to your room." Sinbad scolded as he approached the engrossed general. The white haired man ignored him as if he never entered the room. 

   
The situation felt very reminiscent of the days when Ja'far was still a socially unaware and reckless child. There had been plenty of times he was forced to assume responsibility and lift Ja'far from the scruff of his clothing and drag him away from all sorts of unfortunate predicaments. And at the moment, Sinbad felt he would end up doing the same thing despite the spitfire's change in age. 

 

  
"Ja'far, work will still be here after you recover. Please, let me handle everything."

 

Ja'far let out a dry laugh, the first acknowledgement of his presence. 

 

"If I leave this for you to do, it'll never get done. All this paperwork has to be read over and approved for our surveillance team. You'll probably wind up drunk and asleep before you reach the bottom of a page."

 

The barbed comment landed like a slap. Sinbad had taken plenty of jabs from his feisty general, their banter being a staple of their aeonic friendship. But right now, in this situation, Ja'far's display of hostility pricked a sore spot within Sinbad. Did Ja'far think him so useless a king that he thought he had to risk his health to make up for his supposed incompetence? He had assured him the work would be done. Was he seen as nothing but an irresponsible fool? 

 

  
Sinbad's jumbled emotions settled on anger, sparking a smoldering spite in his chest. Broad shoulders were tightly pulled back and squared against his insubordinate advisor. 

 

"You will watch the way you speak to me, Ja'far. Despite our relationship, I am still your king." Sinbad bit out. Ja'far rose from his seat, Sinbad's words seemingly falling to the wayside. 

 

"My goodness. You're doing it even now," Ja'far shook his head as if he were the only adult in the room. "You're focusing on trifling matters. What about the meeting with Drakon? You're supposed to be there now."

 

"For your information, I was there until--" Sinbad bristled, but Ja'far continued. 

 

"I'll bet you forgot to make mention of the possible amendment to the number of ships." Ja'far sighed as he hastily began gathering scrolls in his arms. 

 

Sinbad’s head quickly surfaced from his frothing fury the moment he caught sight of Ja'far's graceless movements. The scrolls he gathered fumbled between characteristically nimble hands. It was nothing he'd expect from the man who could balance on an inch-thin ledge and hit a target a field away. Anger dissolved to worry as he watched his advisor falter. 

 

"I'll head to the hall and make sure everything is running smoothly." Ja'far said finally balancing half a dozen scrolls in his arms. 

 

"Ja'far, wait." Sinbad tried. 

 

"I should also review the treasury allocation," the smaller man continued. 

 

"Ja'far."

 

"There is a farmer's request that's been pending for many moons."

 

"Ja'far, listen!"

 

"Honestly, Sin. What would you do without me?"

 

"Ja'far! I've had enough of this!" Sinbad finally snapped. He grabbed at Ja'far's bicep as the man tried to breeze past him to the door, but the keffiyeh wearing general violently jerked his arm away and whipped around in a roar. 

 

"No! I refuse to give you a reason to throw me away!" 

 

The air in the room froze. Ja'far's words hung stagnant in the air, the two men locked in an awkward stare-down. Sinbad felt his stomach curl as he was pinned with feral grey eyes lacking lucidity of mind. 

"'Throw you away'...?" Sinbad barely got out. "Ja'far what in the world do you mean by that?"

 

Sinbad moved on reflex when he saw Ja'far wobble, catching his advisor as he pitched forward, the scrolls tumbling to the ground in a hollow clatter. 

 

"Ja'far?" Sinbad called holding all the smaller man's weight. 

 

There was no response. 

 

The general was completely unconscious; his wheezing gasps flooded panic through Sinbad's veins. Through Ja'far's robes, he could feel the heat of the fever the general had desperately tried to hide. 

 

Sinbad's brain was drowning. What just happened...? His almighty second-in-command, his self-appointed keeper, his most trusted friend just became a complete danger to himself. And for what? Did he really think his only value lay in the amount of work he accomplished...? 

 

Snapping back to reality, Sinbad realized that he had stalled long enough. He pulled himself from his thoughts and scooped the panting advisor into his arms, his feet tearing a trail down the corridor and up several flights of stairs. When he reached the study room he could have wept with joy when he found Yamraiha reading an old tome behind a large oak desk. Her head flicked up when she heard the door crash open. Immediately, a look of panic painted her face when her eyes landed on the cradled general. 

 

  
"Your Majesty, what happened?" She ran towards them, skilled hands already running along Ja'far's face, chest and arms to assess any injuries. 

 

"He passed out." Sinbad explained still a bit shaken. "He's not feeling well..."

 

Yamraiha gave a nod. 

 

"Ja'far's body is completely exhausted. Even his magoi is dangerously twisted… One moment." She dashed to a small cupboard in the corner of the room retrieving a large empty bowl and cloth from its confines. 

 

"Lay him on the settee and strip his clothing. He's burning alive right now."

 

Sinbad promptly obeyed the mage. He made his way towards the green settee, gently laying Ja'far down as if he were glass cargo. Uttering a small apology, Sinbad hastily began disrobing the white haired man. He knew the former assassin valued his modesty and would fight wildly if awake. After all, his body was a storybook of scars, many he wasn't too proud of.

 

  
Working his way down from the keffiyeh, Sinbad removed all his clothing save for Ja'far's lower undergarments. His clothing and even his weapons sat in a sweaty pile leaving Ja'far's cherry skin on display. 

 

"Help cool him down with this." 

 

Sinbad turned to be handed the large bowl now magically filled with cool water. 

 

"I have a medicinal draft in my lab that will help his magoi and I believe his fever. I'll be right back." 

 

The words "thank you" were barely out of his mouth before he saw the ends of Yamraiha's robes float from the room and the door slam shut.

 

A grateful smile shaped Sinbad's lips at Yamraiha's hurried exit. He could tell she was just as worried as he was and it was warming to see. Ja'far cared for all of them like a watchful guardian whether they all went out for drinks or were in the heat of a raging battle. Simply seeing all his passion and care reciprocated heartened Sinbad in the grim situation at hand.

 

  
Taking the cloth from the lip of the bowl, he swirled it in the magoi-produced water, wringing it out before bringing it to Ja'far's forehead. 

 

"You have us worried, Ja'far..." Sinbad said as he dabbed the cool rag along Ja'far's cheeks and neck.

 

"I may be a foolish king at times, but when it comes to keeping the ones I love safe..." Sinbad paused, wiping the bangs away from his advisor's forehead "You should have just listened to me." His voice cracked and his hand tightened around the cloth. 

 

It never occurred to him that he could ever remotely be considered a tyrant. But after Ja'far's rabid reaction it presented itself as a clear possibility.  He knew he appointed a lot of duties to his second-in-command. The younger man was frighteningly efficient and shrewd when it came to his responsibilities. But more importantly, Sinbad trusted Ja'far.  His faith in the man easily intoxicated his judgment concerning the amount of work he could handle.

 

Sinbad was moments away from sinking further into self-loathing until Yamraiha reentered the room. Making her way towards the two men, she bit the cork out of the vile in her hand.

 

"Lord Sinbad, would you sit him up for a moment?" Sinbad did as he was told, Ja'far as easy to maneuver as a ragdoll. Yamraiha's sat in the now free space on the settee.

 

"Here. Give him to me." The former assassin was leaned back until he was cradled in Yamraiha's arms, his cheek to her bosom. As if feeding an infant, she brought the vile to his mouth and they both watched as the liquid drained pass still lips. Sinbad removed the empty glass from the mage's hand giving her leeway to cuddle Ja'far closer to her chest.

 

The room became a bit quieter as Ja'far's breathing evened and Sinbad's heart ceased to beat in his ears. The draft must have been magic as its effects were rapid. He peered at Ja'far's still flushed but peaceful face.

 

"The draft regulates his magoi and will help bring down his fever. He's still sick and needs rest, but we don't have to worry about him slipping into critical condition." Yamraiha explained.

 

Sinbad sighed in relief, his hand reaching to find purchase in sweaty white locks. A gesture meant to soothe an unconscious Ja'far and reassure himself.

 

"Well, isn't he lucky to have you. Not only a fantastic healer, but also the best pillows in all Sindria to rest his head." Sinbad gave Yamraiha a friendly wink.

 

"Down, Your Majesty." Yamraiha said with an unaffected cool. She brought Ja'far closer to her, an affectionate glimmer flickering in her eyes.

 

"He's usually so absorbed in work and serious. To see him like this just helps him appear more vulnerable, more human. I just want to coddle him."

 

Sinbad let out a chuckle, knowing if his advisor were awake, he'd be in a personal nightmare as two pairs of eyes gazed upon him in a tender fashion

 

"Even after we first met,” Sinbad started, “When he tried to spill my blood, I recognized how small he was. He seamlessly transformed into someone I wanted to protect, someone's favor I wanted to gain. It's a power he's yet to realize."

 

Yamraiha nodded her head in agreement, almost seemingly to signal the door to burst open in a flood of worrying babble.

 

"Mr. Ja'far..."

 

"Are you alright, Mr. Ja'far?"

 

"Waaaaah! He really is sick! This is terrible!"

 

"What?! It was true?"

 

"Oh! Our dear Ja'far!"

 

"Ah...? Mmmm..."

 

  
"Damn. So the kid's finally worked himself ill."

 

Morgiana, Alibaba, Aladdin, Sharrkan, Pisti, Masrur and Hinahoho all entered the room as quiet as a typhoon. Sinbad in a swift motion removed his shawl and draped it over Ja'far's body just as everyone gathered around them, looks of sympathy and worry in abundance.

 

Sinbad had to retract his previous thought.  _This_  was Ja'far's worst nightmare. 

 

"Oh man... He looks so red." Sharrkan stated.

 

"Yeah. And not in the fun day in the sun kinda way," Pisti tacked on. 

  
"Is he going to be alright?" Alibaba asked.

 

Yamraiha in touch with an unseen motherly side gave a relaxed smile.

 

"He's going to be fine. He just needs rest and care for a couple of days."

 

Everyone still looked equally distressed gazing at their motionless general and friend, but Aladdin looked near tears. 

 

"It's going to be okay, Aladdin," Sinbad assured. "Ja'far will be better before any of us know it."

 

Aladdin sniffled, tears near falling.

 

"If I were him, I would stay sick. It's not fair that he gets to snuggle with Miss Yam's big fluffy boobs. Can I do that if I get sick?"

 

Sinbad's guffaw boomed through the room as Yamraiha was able to concuss the Magi without disturbing her patient.

 

* * *

 

 

His eyes were closed, but he was awake. He kept his breathing even and didn't shift a muscle. He was well aware of what he pulled today and how he acted. Throwing a tantrum as if he were that 10-year-old-boy again. Not ready to face those repercussions, he wanted to keep his eyes closed and escape back into oblivion.

It was easy to tell where he was. The unique perfume of luxury soaps and the feel of the finest silk beneath him was enough to paint a picture of Sinbad's quarters. And to no surprise, he wasn't alone in the room.

 

A strong heart beat.

 

A familiar musk.

 

A comforting well of power.

 

He didn't need his eyes to identify the presence. 

 

"Welcome back, Ja'far." Ja'far flinched from the smooth deep call. There was no point in faking anymore.

 

He opened his eyes and turned his head to the source of the voice. In a spare chair his king sat posied at his bedside. One hand was cupped to his cheek as golden eyes shone massive relief.

 

With a groan, Ja'far pulled himself from his sheets to address his visitor. As he sat up, something slipped from his head and plopped next to his hand.

 

A crown of flowers...?

 

"Alibaba made it for you." Supplied Sinbad when he had scrunched his brow in confusion. "He was worried pale over you. Aladdin, too. Which explains why you have that," The purple haired dungeon capturer pointed. Jaf'ar's eyes followed the extended finger to his chest where Aladdin's flute hung around his neck. "He was positive Ugo's spirit would help you recover faster."

 

Ja'far's eyes grew wider, as they remained completely transfixed on Aladdin's most precious possession. Sinbad carried on.

 

"They weren't the only ones worried sick. Yamraiha, Pisti, Masrur, oh! And did I mention the whole palace?"

 

Uncertainty kept Ja'far's eyes glued to the flute. He thought he heard mirth in Sindbad's words, but he feared looking onto his face and seeing mockery rather than playfulness. Never in all the years of Sindria had he failed like this.

 

A lump swelled in his throat.

 

How much trouble had he caused? How much time had he wasted? How many people had he inconvenienced? From a previous glance out the window he knew that morning had turned to dusk. Just the bare minimum of light kept the sky from night's hour. 

 

Shame fueled his exhausted body. Before he registered his own movements he was prostrated on the bed facing his king. He had probably embarrassed Sinbad and let him down because he was careless enough to let himself get terribly sick.

 

How pathetic was he?

 

"I'm sorry." Ja'far began, words spoken into the mattress. "I've acted abhorrently and have failed in my duty to you and this kingdom. I know it would be arrogant to assume forgiveness, so I ask--no beg for it. For you to pardon my actions... Please Sinbad."

 

There was silence longer than Ja'far would have preferred. Sinbad was a man of many words, sometimes too many, therefore his silence was deafening. Ja'far felt moments away from a complete breakdown until Sinbad finally spoke.

 

"'I refuse to give you a reason to throw me away'. That's what you said". 

 

He could have puked.

 

"Ja’far, please look at me." Ja'far's head shook furiously from side to side, his head still in a deep bow. 

 

"I would prefer not to, Lord Sinbad." 

 

"Ja'far." Sinbad's voice was pitched lower. It was a gentle timbre that always unlocked Ja'far's certain obedience.

 

Slowly, he raised himself by his arms, now on his hands and knees before his Lord, his eyes meeting Sinbad's enigmatic face.

 

It happened so fast.

 

Large hands surged forward, cupping Ja'far's cheeks. The king’s tan flawless face closed the gap between them. Then slightly chapped lips sealed over his.

 

Neither moved.

 

In their placid hush, Ja'far scrambled to understand the stirring tempest in his chest. Every emotion from confusion, uncertainty, excitement, and ecstasy cycled sloppily through his mind. Where had this come from? This was something overwhelmingly intimate and completely unexpected. Did Sinbad fully understand the new frontier this could bring them to?

 

There wasn’t much time to reflect as all his thoughts were curved violently off course when Sinbad’s full lips began to move confidently over his. Soft and subtle movements that were all together breathtaking. Sinbad sighed a satisfied hum against his lips and he couldn’t help but let himself get swept away.

 

The dungeon capturer’s expert tongue brought heat to Ja'far's lower belly and dragged desperate fragmented sighs from his throat. He was losing control as he tried to take in more and more of Sinbad's essence and flavor.

 

Ja'far knew he was a novice to this, paled even further by Sinbad's multiple escapades, but he felt relaxed as The King of the Seven Seas guided his lips and tongue into a rapacious dance. 

 

With a gentle nip to Ja'far's bottom lip, they finally parted. His eyes remain closed as his mind kicked into overdrive trying to soak up each lingering sensation. It had been so quiet, Ja’far would have thought Sinbad had vanished if not for his strong hands still cupping his face. Heavy lids lifted slowly and Ja’far might as well have been staring at the sun.

 

Radiant, warm and absolutely essential.

 

"So," Sinbad said breaking the silence. "Does that candid look mean you forgive me?"   
  

 

Ja'far blinked in confusion.

 

"Forgive you...? You mean for the kiss? Because I--"

 

The king shook his head.

 

"I only want forgiveness for that if you hated it." Sinbad was even able to pull off a coy smile.

 

It was Ja'far's turn to shake his head.

 

"That's a relief." The king said.

 

Sinbad rose from the chair and sat himself on the bed, leaving no space between them.

 

"But what I was referring to was my complete failure as not only your king, but as your friend."

 

The words were crystal clear, but Jaf'ar stumbled to follow. Sinbad continued nevertheless.

 

"Ja'far you are way more to me than just my second-in-command. You make sure I'm well after a long day of hard decisions. You put your foot down, quite vocally if I might add, when you see me misbehaving. You see my truest self, not as a king, but as an adventurous free spirit. And any shortcomings I have shaping this world you work hard to make up for them. These are not actions of a just an ordinary subordinate. These are actions of a friend. My dearest friend. So for you to think that I would even consider abandoning you, that your only value is equivalent to the amount of work you produce, then I have failed you as someone I care for deeply. And I will do anything to gain your forgiveness and a second chance."

 

Unparalleled mortification seeped into every pore. Ja'far couldn't believe he gave privy to such a deeply buried insecurity. Enormous amounts of effort were put forth every day to ensure he was a steel backbone for Sindria, someone anyone could count on, especially Sinbad. The more responsibilities delegated to him, the higher his necessity became. And whether or not he admitted it aloud, deep down he craved the feeling of being needed.

 

"Sin. You shouldn't apologize. I brought this upon myself, so please don't force such kind words. You see them as sympathy and I see them as pity."

 

Purple eyebrows furrowed.

 

"You think I would say those things, kiss you like that and worry myself into an early grave out of pity?"

 

There was a weight of ire to Sinbad’s words dragging Ja’far’s eyes downwards.

 

"I don't know…but it is easier to think so."

 

Ja’far felt the bed shift and looked up to see the master of seven djinns completely facing him. His small pale hands were captured in a tender grasp.

 

"Close your eyes." Sinbad's tone was a gentle suggestion, but as if a command, Ja'far's eyes immediately slid closed. "Now, pretend you are talking to someone else. Someone you trust and can open up to."

 

"I'm sorry, what…?" Ja'far began.

 

"Please?" It had been a one-word plea.

 

"O-okay."

 

“You have a person in mind?”

 

“Yes.”

 

"Perfect. Now answer me this: What do you want from Sinbad?"

 

"What do I want from you---I mean Sin?" Ja'far reiterated. It took him almost no time to come up with his answer. "Well, I want him to be happy and to continue running this country as the superior king I know him to be. It's his destiny."

 

"No," came Sinbad's reply. "That's what you want  _for_  Sinbad. The question was what do you want  _from_  him. What can he do for you? What could he do to make you happier?"

 

Barely a beat passed.

 

"Finish his work on time so I don't have to hunt him down every day." The answer was immediate and frank, leaving Sinbad chuckling for a few moments. 

 

"Is that it?"   

 

"Also, it would be best if he didn't drink as much as it constantly interferes with my first request."

 

"Go on." The tenor voice prompted.

 

"He could also put a leash on that out of control libido of his." Ja'far's voice modulated to angry, the sanctuary behind closed eyes loosening his tongue. "His womanizing has gotten completely out of hand. The possible number of illegitimate children he may have running around drowns me in worry! I mean, how many women does he need?! Oh! And his late nights out! I understand the king needs a moment of reprieve, but not every night. He makes a spectacle of himself, leaving me to do damage control! Not to mention it causes a huge decline in his work performance!"

 

Ja'far's daily agitations ballooned. His constant scolding of the king was an easy way to get him worked up. He was seconds away from leaping from the bed to finish any incomplete assignments as if it were a normal day, but another chuckle broke the spell.

 

"So, so far you've explained you want Sinbad to do his work. Is that it? Is that  _all_ you want?" Sinbad questioned.

 

What did he mean, 'is that it'? What else could he possibly want? As his mind searched for other answers, he noticed rough thumbs stroking his wrist in smooth practiced circles. Ja'far could have melted. 

 

This was just like ages ago before Sinbad was king. When he himself was smaller, more unruly and weapons always poised to kill. Sinbad had quickly learned how to talk him down when he became too riled up. A by-product of which is he learned massaging the insides of his wrists crisscrossed with his weapon soothed the young assassin. Sinbad had always been extremely receptive to his needs…

 

"You're quiet, Ja'far. Tell me what you're thinking." The words were a warm caress against his ear, which is the moment Ja'far realized how close Sinbad was. An enveloping presence of warmth and stability he'd become addicted to. 

 

"Well," Ja'far began tentatively. "There is one thing I'd ask of him."

 

"Hmm? And what would that be?" Sinbad crooned.

 

"When we were younger, I'd have night terrors. I'd never say anything about them being too proud, too ashamed. But Sin knew. He never treated me like a cold-blooded killer. He only ever treated me like the child I was. No matter how violently I protested, no matter what nasty words I threw at him he would--"

 

"Wrap you in his arms? Like this?"

 

Strong arms snaked unsuspectingly around Ja'far. Being a former assassin and a current general, he was far from being overly slender, but compared to Sinbad's impressive muscular physique, he may as well have been a child again.

 

"Yeah…" Ja’far admitted, rouge flooding his face and he knew it wasn't from the sickness. 

 

"Then he would bring you against his chest?"

 

The bass of Sinbad's voice rocked his self control when his head and body were brought against solid pectorals, snug and secure.

 

"Yeah..." Ja'far managed to breathe out, the word barely a whisper.

 

"His nose nestled to the top of your head while his fingers carded through the soft hairs along your nape."

 

"Sin." Ja'far whined, his senses alight like wildfire. Every stroke, scent and syllable spoken was a hypnotic dream.

 

"Ja'far, I love you. I always have. I need you to know that now more than ever." The words whispered into the crown of his head were laden with sincerity. And just like that, like a lit room, obscure sensations became clear. Comfort, trust, unfiltered desire... The pit of his feelings reshaped itself into an abyss ready to swallow him whole.

 

When Ja'far finally opened his eyes, he was relived that the dream behind closed lids was his reality. Tentative arms wiggled themselves free from Sinbad's grasp to encircle the dungeon capturer's unadorned neck. And being braver than ever, Ja'far brought his parted lips to Sinbad's mouth, a clear invitation for his king to devour him.

 

And he did.

 

In their current position, Sinbad had all the leeway to ravish Ja'far. Fingers threaded with his ivory white hair craned his head to get a better angle on their kiss. Sinbad’s other hand grazed dexterous fingertips down the column of his throat, to his collarbone and further down to his covered chest. He felt Sinbad remove the dangling flute from his neck, before his hand returned, nails deliberately brushing over the outlines of his nipples. Each pass pulled Ja'far's stomach into a wonton drop. Sinbad's feather light touches didn't linger, his roaming hand finding an unanticipated perch beneath Ja'far's nightgown.

 

Ja'far tore his mouth away from Sinbad's, a breathless scream pumped from his lungs as a rough hand took hold of his swelling prick.

 

Sinbad chuckled.

 

"I'll take that as a 'please continue'."

 

"I'd kill you if you stopped," Ja'far exhaled, catching his breath now a fool's errand.

 

"If you like this so much, then do us both a favor." It didn't take much coherency to hear the mischief in Sinbad's voice. "Turn yourself around and straddle my lap. I can take care of you better that way."

 

Dizzy with anticipation, Ja'far pulled away from Sinbad to turn himself around placing scarred legs on either side of powerful thighs.

 

Sinbad wasted no time, threading his forearms underneath Ja'far's knees, drawing them towards his chest. Cool air instantly rushed to kiss his straining sex and puckered opening, there being no barrier of undergarments to speak of. Ja'far's face burned with the indecency of having his legs spread so obscenely wide, completely exposed, and at his Majesty's mercy. 

 

"Ja'far. You're practically dripping," Sinbad growled behind him. "Could it be you're truly enjoying this? Being spread so wide? Open for anyone to see? You know I didn't lock the door. What would happen if someone walked in right now? The first thing they'd see is your cock twitching to be touched. You're tight hole fluttering to be filled. What a beautiful sight that would be."

 

Ja'far was desperate. He'd never been this sexually aroused before in all of his 25 years. At this point he felt he could cum without being touched. But that  _wasn't_  what he wanted.

 

"Please, Sin. I want you--Ah. I need you to touch me. Please, Sin. I want—I-I need-- just…"

 

His words were a mess. It was hard to retain any focus when flush against his king's well-muscled chest, his sultry voice unfiltered sex in his ear, and evidence of the king's want jerking beneath his backside.

 

"How could I say no to such a pretty plea," Sinbad replied. His hand found Ja'far's cock again and began to jerk him with a firm upstroke. 

 

The friction was intoxicating sending his head back paired with a throaty scream. He'd done something like this to himself in his room a few times, but it had never felt as good as this. He tried to rock his hips upwards to capture more pleasure, but the purple haired man released his cock and placed the hand to Ja'far's stomach.

 

"Steady, Ja'far." Sinbad warned "You don't want this to be over so soon. I have one more thing in store for you. Here. Suck on these." Ja'far cracked open his eyes to look down his nose to see Sinbad's middle and index fingers ghosting over his bottom lip. "You need to get them as wet as you can so I can give you something really--."

 

Ja'far's soft tongue darted out before Sinbad finished his sentence. He placed a diffident lick to the pad of the middle finger and then a chaste kiss to the index before lewdly taking them both into his mouth. Getting to the first knuckles, he moaned around the digits as he ran his tongue over every print and crease. He then took them deeper and deeper…

 

"Fuck, Ja'far," Sinbad groaned. "I can feel the back of your throat." Ja'far felt Sinbad's member grow even harder and give a particularly strong twitch against his bottom. He figured he must have been doing something right and he liked the idea that he could make his king lose control in a whole new way.

 

Just going with instinct, he grabbed Sinbad's wrist and pulled, shoving the fingers further back into his mouth, his tongue working fervently to coat them in moisture. His hips swerved to grind against the impressive length buried in fabric beneath him. Sinbad hissed and sank his teeth into Ja'far's neck as his hips thrust up to follow Ja'far's rhythmic pace. A stream of drool poured from the corner of his mouth as he fit one more of Sinbad's fingers in and let pleasured moans careen out.

 

"Ja'far. That's enough." The king panted, removing his now soaked fingers. "We're almost there. This next part... it will feel a bit uncomfortable, but I need you to push past that so I can reach that part inside of you that'll absolutely wreck you. Can you do that for me?"

 

Ja'far whimpered and nodded his head more times than necessary. He didn't care what kind of pain or discomfort he'd feel. He trusted Sinbad and he knew in that moment, more than anything else he wanted Sinbad as far inside him as possible. 

 

His thighs were spread wider, exposing him further.  A shiver crawled through him when Sinbad's fingers disappeared below to trace his entrance. Never had Ja'far imagined that that could be such a sensitive area in the best kind of way. 

 

But right when Ja'far felt his release fast approaching from the tantalizing touches, the teasing finger pierced into him.

 

He froze. 

 

The feeling of bliss faded into a dull ache, especially after the second finger narrowly fit itself next to the first.

 

"Sin… it's weird. Ugh! It hurts." He began to squirm, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort, but only augmenting it. "Ah! Please, Sin..."

 

"You have to relax, Ja'far. It gets better, I swear. Just bare with me." The words were a calming psalm against his skin and he took a deep breath to relax. 

 

"That's good. You're doing well." Sinbad's stagnant hand crept to Ja'far's cock and started to stroke him in time with his digit's shallow thrusts, giving an erratic mixture of pain and pleasure.

 

Then fireworks exploded behind his eyes. Ja'far's head flung back and a strangled cry was wrung from his lungs.

 

"That's beautiful, Ja'far. Keep going. Keep screaming my name." 

 

Had he been speaking? His ears had heard nothing but the blood surging from his brain. Every nerve ending was desensitized except for those in contact with the rough hand mercilessly jerking his cock and the fingers petting the raw bundle inside him. But like a true subordinate of his king he began chant his name.

 

"Sin, Sin, Ahh! Oh god, Sin..."

 

He could tell the name hit something deep within Sinbad when he let out a rumbling moan and began to hasten his movements. The hand fisting his cock worked faster as his fingers pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into that sweet spot.

 

"Fuck, Ja'far. You're gorgeous. The slope of your neck, your ungodly soft skin, the curve of your cock. Could I possibly be so lucky to call you mine?"

 

Ja'far was too busy meeting every stroke and every thrust to respond. But Sinbad seemed capable of carrying the conversation along on his own.

 

"I can't wait. This is just the beginning." Sinbad punctuated by scissoring the fingers stretching his hole. "Soon I will take the time to lay you out and taste every crevice of your body. I'll get to bite you, mark you, make you sob for more. And when you don't think you can take it, my cock will find a nice place inside this soft hole, filling you, fucking you, until you can practically taste my release on your tongue."

 

Ja'far exploded.

 

His toes curled in as every nerve was set ablaze. He felt the pull of each cord of cum as it shot from his twitching prick. Spurt after spurt landed on his thighs, his chest and even on his chin. He could still feel Sinbad kneading his spent erection and fingering his hole through his orgasm. 

 

He felt unbelievably boneless, breaking down like a marionette in Sinbad's arms. Those same arms raised him and laid him on the bed. 

 

Gently, Sinbad removed his now soiled nightgown, using the clean ends to wipe off any remaining mess. Still soaking in the afterglow, his eyes remained unfocused until Sinbad's face loomed into his vision.

 

"Safe to say you look satisfied." Sinbad bubbled with a toothy smile pulling the covers up to lay over Ja'far's now completely naked body.

 

Ja'far gave a lazy nod. 

 

“I just hope I didn't make you feel worse. Yamraiha would kill me if she knew I went against her orders to let you rest." A tan hand playfully twirled locks of his hair as he spoke. 

 

"I'm just really tired," Ja'far replied as he began to snuggle into the sheets that smelled of Sinbad, of his… his what exactly?

 

"Sin…?" Ja'far began. "What are we? I mean, are we… lovers? How do we…? What will we…?" 

 

"I can hear that busy brain of yours buzzing," Sinbad joked. "It's simple. I love you. I could list off a 1001 reasons why. The only question is, do you love me…? Only your honesty will do."

 

The words he wanted to say were familiar to his mind but foreign to his tongue. He always knew he loved Sinbad, but never thought he'd ever say the words aloud. But as soon as he opened his mouth, the words tumbled out easily.

 

"I love you. I truly love you, Sin." His candor was rewarded with adoring eyes of gold.

 

"Then that's all we need."

 

Sinbad disrobed to only his undergarment and slipped under the covers next to Jaf'ar. He hadn't noticed before, but with his new lover molded against him, Ja'far felt Sinbad's thick erection nuzzled stiffly against his thigh.

 

"Sin. You didn’t—"

 

“Sorry,” the amethyst haired man apologized scooting his hips away from Ja’far. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll try to keep my eighth djinn tucked away. Until morning anyway.”

 

Ja’far almost went blind from rolling his eyes at the ridiculous analogy.

 

"By the way, now that we are a couple that means you can ease up on the paperwork, right? You don't wanna be that heartless to your lover, " Sinbad said.

 

Ja'far grabbed a small portion of Sinbad's purple locks and gave a smart tug.

 

"Not in your life, Sin." Ja'far stated firmly, a dangerous heat in his voice. 

 

Sinbad chortled and pulled Ja'far closer.

 

"Perfect. I wouldn't have it any other way."

 

And they both began to drift off, wrapped in each other's arms.

 

Until Sinbad coughed…

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed! Thanks again for reading!


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